


For What It's Worth

by Im_The_Doctor (Bofur1)



Category: Transformers: Rescue Bots
Genre: Alien Culture, Attraction, Awkwardness, Coercion, Companionable Snark, Emotionally Repressed, Escape, F/M, First Kiss, Fundraisers, Mistletoe, Partying, Pre-Earth Transformers, Rare Pairings, Romantic Fluff, Slow Romance, Socially Awkward Quickshadow, Something Made Them Do It, Surprises, Teasing, Unresolved Romantic Tension, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-11
Updated: 2017-03-11
Packaged: 2018-10-02 20:54:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10227146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bofur1/pseuds/Im_The_Doctor
Summary: Somehow a fundraiser for the Rescue Academy has turned into a celebration of the Bots who have found love. In Quickshadow’s opinion, the idea is as diabolical as it is simple; she plans to do whatever's necessary to avoid the party, but unfortunately popular opinion is against her.





	

In the end, really, the entire ordeal was Culverush’s fault.

When Quickshadow had asked her brother to put in a good word for her to the senior officers at the Rescue Academy’s annual fundraiser, he had easily agreed—with one condition: he wanted her to be there.

In Quickshadow’s opinion, Culverush’s idea for that fundraiser was as diabolical as it was simple.

When she arrived at the Academy, she discovered that Culver had hung what looked like a thousand Ritus orb lamps across the ceiling. Any time he happened to catch a couple underneath one, he—and most of the crowd around them—demanded a kiss. The mech in question then had to donate some credits to the fundraiser and in return, they got to keep the Ritus lamp and give it to their significant other. _Trust them to turn a fundraiser into a date_.

It seemed that no one could refuse without looking like a glitch and, so far, none of the donations had been less than fifty credits. Not too long ago, Culverush had demanded the traxcaster stop his music at one point to announce that one young pair of Fire Bots had just donated 500 credits—a credit for every happy vorn they’d shared together.

From the weepie reactions of the others, Quickshadow was willing to admit it was a sweet gesture, but thus far she had done her best to avoid the Ritus lamps and the other partygoers. Those who weren’t in a relationship already were far too eager to use the lamps as an excuse to flirt, and the particularly grueling sessions of training she had been through this past quintun hadn’t put her in the mood to be flirted with. She couldn’t find it in herself to try, despite Culverush’s disjointed pleading and needling.

“Shadow, it only happens annually!” he reminded her, speaking loudly over the shock rock being blasted over the speakers. “Besides—” Quickshadow raised an eyebrow dubiously as a femme caught hold of her brother and kissed him firmly, cutting off his words. “Alright, alright, donations over there,” Culver reminded the femme, who nodded, winked and pranced away. “Besides,” he began again, “I’m sure there are some mechs who’d love to get to know you!”

“And I’m absolutely sparkbroken that I’ll never make their acquaintance,” Quickshadow assured him, pressing a hand to her chest dramatically. Culverush scowled at her and she laughed lightly, shaking her helm. “I don’t need a mech, brother dear. In fact, I don’t think any of them would notice if I just slipped away now.”

“You—” Whatever protest Culver had planned fell flat as he dodged another femme and announced, “It’s the thought that counts, madam; go give some credits, alright?” before speeding off in the direction of the provided energon.

Sighing fondly, Quickshadow followed his example and turned away, weaving through the crowd toward the exit. Soon enough, however, she found the crowd was simply scrambling out of the way as one of the larger mechs strode in the same direction. Glancing back and up, she wasn’t all that surprised to see High Tide shouldering a path through the attendees.

“Are you leavin’ too, Blink?” he questioned in the hoarse growl he only used when he had been hollering. Winglets twitching at the nickname, Quickshadow nodded confirmation and High Tide slowed his stride just long enough to grab her elbow and add, “I’ll walk you out.”

“I beg your pardon? You don’t have to…” Quickshadow protested, but either he couldn’t hear her or he was just ignoring her. Mechhandling probably went against a few of the Rescue Bots’ code of boundaries, but she was a little distracted by the warmth of his hand and the way he pressed close to her as they made their way through the crowd, so she didn’t force the matter.

Five feet away from the doors, a brave and most likely overcharged mech pounced on them. “You two! It’s your turn!” he exclaimed gleefully, pointing at the ceiling with a near-disturbing grin.

Quickshadow felt High Tide go completely still as she glanced up. She was certain the innocent little Ritus lamp over their helms had been moved for this precise reason—to catch anyone trying to escape. Judging by the tense fluctuation of his EM field, High Tide was as taken aback as she was.

“What’re you goin’ to do if I say no, wingnut?” he demanded of the younger mech, rather ominously.

“But it’s for charity!” the mech retorted. “Kiss her and give some credits! S’not that complicated!”

Several people around them were looking their way, Quickshadow noticed uneasily. One of the femmes in the group giggled, urging, “Come on, it’ll be so sweet!”

 _I wonder if she’s going to survive the party, now that she’s run her mouth_ , Quickshadow mused with a grimace as High Tide twitched indignantly. Glancing up at the seamech, Quickshadow watched him clench his jaw tightly and then shake his helm.

“ _Fine_ ,” he ground out. Before Quickshadow could pull away and lunge for the exit, the tall mech spun her around to face him, moving his right hand to her back and his left to her other arm. Quickshadow ex-vented quickly, fidgeting and planting her hands on his chest to push away.

“I don’t think any fundraiser is worth—”

“Is this comfortable?” he cut her off, the words vibrating through his chest and her hands.

“Not in any sense of the word.”

“Alright, then.” With no further warning, he lifted her from the ground and his lips came down on hers. The contact was brief and firm, but Quickshadow felt a jolt of static that made her shutter her optics and go rather limp against him. She was starkly aware of how his hands tightened on her again, steadying her for a klik or two more before he let her slide back down to the floor. Under any other circumstance, Quickshadow would have made a sharp quip about his manners, but presently she couldn’t find the words.

“You satisfied?” High Tide barked when they had separated, rounding on the mech and femme who had encouraged the spectacle.

The mech grinned and nodded, tugging the Ritus lamp down from the ceiling and pushing it into High Tide’s hands. He made a fleeting expression of distaste at it and then shoved a few credit sticks at the mech in return. The flyer blinked at them in disbelief, but as he opened his mouth to ask a question, High Tide stalked past him out the door. Quickshadow trailed slowly after him, winglets held stiffly on her back so they couldn’t betray…whatever she was feeling. She wasn’t really sure.

When the pair of them emerged to the cold, quiet street, the silence was thick between them. Bolstering herself, Quickshadow remarked, “You don’t have to worry about this coming up in the future, at least not from me. I know it was just to give credits, for the benefit of the Academy.”

“That’s right,” High Tide grumbled lightly, holding the Ritus lantern up to illuminate the street for a klik or two before handing it to her. “G’night, Blink.” With that he wandered off into the darkness. Quickshadow was about to do the same when the door behind her burst open.

“Shadow!” Culverush gasped out. “Was that—was that the mech who kissed you?!”

“Yes, and I’ll have you know that if _you_ were the one who moved this orb lamp in front of the door—”

“You don’t understand,” Culverush cut her off, glancing in the direction High Tide had gone with wide optics. “He…he kissed you and then handed someone three credit sticks—three _full_ sticks. I counted them up: two thousand credits!” Quickshadow’s optics widened and Culverush shook his helm in wonder, a wide smile surfacing. “Cor. Guess you’re more popular than you thought, dear sister. If he thought that was what you were worth—and he thought rightly, by the way—you should make his acquaintance more often!”

Wordlessly Quickshadow glanced down at the orb lamp in her hands, glowing warmly. _Perhaps I should_.

 

**Author's Note:**

> It's only my second story for this pairing, QuickTide, and I've determined that they're going to be the end of me ;w;
> 
> I hope you liked this little bit of fluff! Leave a comment and tell me what you thought; I'd love to hear from you!


End file.
